


And Now That Your Rose Is In Bloom

by roseandheather



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-05-25 19:32:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6207679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A charity gala brings new light to buried feelings. Also, everyone gets dressed up, and there is much costume porn.</p><p>Featuring dashing!Ed, oblivious!Leanne, Cinderella!Christa, and all-knowing!Neal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Holy mother of _God._ "

Malaya's reverent whisper stops the small gathering of Angels personnel in their tracks. Almost as one, they turn to see the new arrivals - and half a dozen jaws drop in unison.

Ed Harbert cleans up as well as everyone expected him to; black tie suits him down to the ground, and his gray hair makes him look admirably distinguished. But he is severely outclassed by his date for the evening - as is everyone else in the room. And possibly the city. Even, conceivably, the planet.

Leanne Rorish steps out of the car with a coy smile, taking Harbert's hand with a graceful flourish. Her dark, shining hair cascades over her shoulders in loose, wavy curls pinned back from her face, and her dress is a three-quarter-sleeved, cowl-necked red velvet gown with a slit clear to her left hip that clings to every curve from her shoulders to her ankles.

And when she turns around so Ed can kiss her hand, everyone can see that her back is bare to the waist.

Christa - who has cleaned up quite nicely herself in an icy blue lace confection that does wonders for her eyes - looks _deeply_ impressed. Malaya's fingers are clamped around Angus' arm, her other hand clutching the folds of her purple sari at her waist, and Mario and Mike still haven't picked up their jaws from the floor. Even Neal has torn his gaze away from Christa long enough to gape at the ER director.

"Stop staring," Leanne says crisply, that amused smile still playing at the corners of her mouth. "We have work to do."

"Does she always look like that?" Christa hisses to Neal in disbelief.

Neal just shakes his head. "I wouldn't know. She's never come to one of these before."

" _Never?_ "

"Never," confirms Malaya, from Christa's other side. "Not once."

"Then why is she coming to this one, if she hates them so much?"

Neal and Malaya turn to stare in unison, and it's Neal who finally speaks. "Darling," he says, trying to hide his laughter and failing, "I love you dearly, but you can be remarkably dense. The reason why just offered her his elbow."

Christa blinks several times. "Leanne and _Harbert?_ " she asks incredulously. "But they - "

Then she stops for a minute and really _looks_ at what she's seeing. Looks at the light in Leanne's eyes, and the warmth in Harbert's. At the smile wreathing her face, and the twinkling in his eyes. At her hand on his elbow, the touch intimate and familiar, and the way his eyes flutter shut when she reaches up to fuss with his bowtie.

At the way there doesn't seem to be anyone else in their world.

"Oh," she says softly. _"Oh._ "

~*~

For a moment, she almost regrets coming tonight.

"You're going to be the most beautiful woman in the room," Ed says, warm and private, and she can't help the laugh.

_Regrets? What regrets?_

"You've barely seen anyone else," she points out, leaning into his shoulder.

But when he looks at her then, his eyes are deadly serious. "I don't have to."

There's nothing but conviction in his voice, and heat floods her spine. He's looking at her like there's no one else in the universe, and she wonders, briefly, what he'd like to do with her.

Then she wonders - not quite as briefly - what she'd _let_ him do with her.

As it turns out, the answer to the latter is 'quite a bit'.

They're not seated together during dinner. She's parked with the rest of the ER folks, while he is stuck at the high table with the Board. And though their tables are next to each other, there's two centerpieces and a dozen people between them.

Part of her wishes she was up there with him. Somehow having him at her side makes her feel far more comfortable in her own skin; she loathes political games and always will, but with Ed Harbert next to her, she doesn't feel so much like an imposter. And, quite frankly, she _likes_ the man. Doesn't like most of his decisions - because they are usually compromises, and not him just giving her her way in everything, as he should - but she likes _him,_ personally, and that isn't true of many people.

Less selfishly - and, perhaps, more worryingly - she's worried about him. The eighteen months since Gina's death have been hard on him - and far harder still because no one knew what she truly was to him. She knows that every mention of Gina's name is another knife through his heart, another reminder that not only has he lost her, but that he can't even acknowledge the true extent of his grief. And the part of her that knows the agony of that grief all too well wants nothing more than to hiss like a protective cobra at anyone who dares to reopen those wounds, even unintentionally.

Every so often their eyes will catch across the milling waiters and flowery centerpieces, and every time, she sees a slight, private smile cross his face. It's as though just seeing her face makes him feel a bit happier, and the notion makes her heart clutch in a not-quite-familiar way every time she thinks about it.

And if she keeps glancing over there whenever she can get away with it, just in the hopes of putting that look on his face one more time, well - she doesn't have to tell anyone, does she?

 


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm impressed," says a familiar voice in her ear. "So far as I know, you haven't gotten into a shouting match with anyone yet tonight."

"Yes, well," she says impishly. "My favorite shouting partner was otherwise occupied, so..." She studies him out of the corner of her eye, noting the taut strain on his face. "How are you doing?" she asks him, more seriously now. "I know this has to be hard."

"Much better, now that you're here," he murmurs, and holds out his elbow to her, drawing her into a quiet alcove away from the rest of the party.

"Well," she says, ducking her head with a shy smile, "isn't that what friends are for?"

Something like pain crosses his face at that, and she sees him take a deep breath.

"I was going to wait to speak about this," he says quietly, and she feels a slight flash of alarm. "But since you brought it up..."

"What, have I been downgraded from 'friend' to mere 'colleague' in the last week?" She tries to keep her voice light, but she can't completely hide the edge to the question, or the pain in her heart at the thought that he might...

"No!" he says hastily, and glances around to make sure they're not getting any attention. "That's not it at all, Leanne. We _are_ friends - you're one of the dearest friends I have, and you've been an absolute Godsend this last year and a half. If it weren't for you, I can't imagine..."

He closes his eyes again, not so briefly this time, and she squeezes his arm in sympathy. Though part of her wants to shake him and bark, _Well, out with it, then!,_ she schools herself to patience.

God knows she owes him that much, after the patience she's demanded of him over the years.

"What I meant," he continues, turning to face her and locking his hands behind his back, "is that I was hoping we'd leave here tonight as more than just friends."

She just gapes at him.

"Leanne?" he asks nervously after perhaps thirty seconds. "Can you please say something?"

"I don't know," she whispers, stunned. "Ed, I never thought - I _know_ how much you loved Gina, I know how hard you've grieved her. Are you sure - do you even _know_ what you're feeling?"

"I think the more important question is how _you_ feel," he says quietly, his gaze steady on her face.

"I think," she says slowly, "that if I were to think about - having that kind of relationship again, with anyone, I could only ever imagine it with you." Fingers twisting in her skirts, she takes a deep, heaving breath. "But I _haven't_ thought about it, Ed, I haven't _dared_ to, because..." Helplessly, she shrugs. "Because if the thought was off-limits, completely and utterly, then it didn't have to hurt."

He reaches out to touch her, almost on instinct, and then drops his hand. "You're right," he says, his voice low. "I have grieved Gina. I've grieved her _hard,_ and there were nights I didn't think I'd make it through. And you've been next to me for every step, asking nothing of me except for me to let you help." He swallows hard, and to her startlement she can see the glint of tears in his eyes. "Leanne, Gina is a cherished memory, and she always will be. But when I look at you I see the future." Gently, he reaches out to touch her face, not shying away this time. "And it's one I very much want."

Her voice is so clogged, she can't even speak. There aren't words for this. Can't be. So she just holds out her hand and whispers, "It's a waltz next. Come dance with me."

He takes a deep, slow breath. "If we go out there and dance," he tells her with utter sincerity, "there won't be a person in the room who doesn't know that I'm in love with you."

Leanne freezes.

Her hand drops to her side, limp and unresisting, and she doesn't bother to check the tears rolling down her cheeks. "Oh my God," she whispers, and trembles so hard she thinks she might break.

He looks stricken, she notes distantly, the way someone does when they've just let slip the one secret they want most to keep.

She blinks, rapidly, several times. She can't do anything else. It's as though Time itself has frozen.

_He's in love with me?_

It changes everything. _Everything._ Past and future, his choices and hers. Because looking back now, she can _see_ the slow growth of it between them. Can see every touch, every hug, every late night phone call, every argument and shouting match and subsequent reconciliation, in an entirely new light.

There is a _reason_ it was her phone ringing at midnight when he couldn't sleep for crying. There is a _reason_ it was his office she bolted to when it seemed like half her patients died under her hands and his arms sheltered her from the worst of her grief. There is a reason she'd rather spend time with him than almost anyone else, a reason just seeing him makes her day brighter, a reason she can't really stay angry at him even when he makes decisions she hates.

There is a reason all she ever wants to do is put that look of relief on his face, just by giving him a smile.

There's a reason she shivers when he touches her, and a reason why she doesn't want to stop touching him.

She sees his hands clenched at his sides, trembling, as though she could break him with her answer.

And just like that, everything comes clear, and the world starts spinning again.

"Doesn't know that we're in love with each other," she corrects, hoarse and gentle, and holds out her hand.

His eyes luminous, a smile so profound it barely touches his lips wreathing his whole face, he takes it.

~*~

"Are you sure you want to sit this one out?"

Christa snorts. "Like you _don't._ But yes, I'm very sure. My feet are _killing_ me." Heedless of her gown - which, miraculously, drapes itself as artistically as if she'd done it on purpose - she drops into one of the chairs lining one wall of the ballroom and toes off her delicate, strappy silver heels. "Besides, I could use a breather. Or three. Fifteen minutes seems about right."

"Well, if you're sure," says Neal hurriedly, dropping down beside her, and Christa smothers a laugh with the palm of her hand.

"I will never know how Malaya manages that sari," Christa says a little wistfully, looking out over the ballroom. "She - oh, wow."

"Wow, indeed," agrees Neal as Leanne takes the floor, Ed Harbert's hand in hers.

When the music starts, neither he nor Christa can bear to look away.

The music is poignant and aching, speaking as much of loss as of love, a lilting rhythm that seems to flow perfectly with the flare of Leanne's skirts. One hand in Ed Harbert's, the other handling her skirts, Leanne moves as though she's not even thinking about it, and she never once looks away from her partner's eyes. Ed's arm is settled firmly not _at_ her waist but _around,_ pressing them so closely there's no light between their hips. He's nearly a foot taller than she is but, far from looking awkward or ungainly, they seem to fit like two puzzle pieces, his chin just brushing the crown of her hair. And though they only catch glimpses of it, his thumb is stroking gently over her fingers where her hand is clasped in his.

"She's in love with him."

"He's in love with her."

Neal and Christa speak in unison, and sneak a quick glance at each other, sharing secret, startled smiles, before looking back at the couple on the floor. "Look at her," Neal continues, his breath hitching. "She's letting him lead - she's  _following._ And she's looking at him - "

" - the way I look at you," Christa finishes with a long, gusting sigh, "and he's giving it all right back to her."

As if to make Christa's point for her, the song fades away, and without ceremony - in fact, without seeming to notice that other people are still in the room - Leanne drops her skirts, reaches up, curls one hand around Harbert's neck, and draws his mouth down to hers.

He goes without any hesitation, and when they kiss, it's so intimate Christa finds herself looking away. A crowded ballroom or none, that kiss was too private to be seen by anyone else.

~*~

"Well," Leanne breathes at last, her forehead pressed to his and his hands smoothing gently over her trembling shoulders and upper arms. "I think we've officially ruined our friendship beyond any hope of repair."

"Well diagnosed," he murmurs, his breath puffing warm over her tingling lips. "Let's ruin it some more." And without further ado, he dips his head to kiss her again.

Her tight velvet sleeves don't stop her from reaching up to loop both arms about his neck. His hands are warm and gentle on the bare skin of her back, but nothing compares to the heat drenching her from the simple contact of his lips on hers. He touches her like she's something precious, something he can't bear to hurt, and when they part again to breathe she's not surprised to feel a tear trickling down her cheek. He gently touches her face with one hand, his thumb wicking the tear away, and he's smiling at her like she's the only thing he'll ever want to see.

Heat long forgotten coils deep in her gut, and she suddenly finds herself short of breath. "Definitely ruined beyond repair," she whispers hoarsely, and hides her face in his chest. He hugs her tight, his lips against her hair, and she sinks into his arms with a little moan of relief.

A piercing wolf whistle breaks the stunned silence, and her shoulders start to shake with silent laughter. "I'm firing whoever did that," she mumbles against his shirt, and feels the laugh rumbling through Ed's chest, too.

"No, you're not," he murmurs in her ear. "I am."

Another whistle breaks the silence, then another. She hears a single person start to clap, then two or three more, until applause - and laughter - are echoing through the assembled crowd. She wants to bury herself back in Ed's arms again, wishes he could just teleport them away from here, but she is not Leanne Rorish for nothing, and she's not going to let anything so utterly insignificant as a mutual declaration of rather intense romantic feelings between herself and the hospital CEO cow her.

So - keeping Ed's hand tightly in hers - she turns to face the ballroom, pitching her voice to carry as though she's in Center Stage. "Yes, folks, that's what you thought it was. We're disgustingly gooey over each other and are highly likely to remain so for the foreseeable future. And if there was a betting pool - " half of her ER staff, nurses and doctors alike, suddenly flush bright red, while the other half appear to be licking their lips like cats with a gallon of cream - "I don't want to know about it unless you want the most disgusting tasks I can find for you for the next week when we get back to doing our real jobs. That'll be all. Show's over, kiddos. Nothing to see here."

And without further ado, Ed's hand still firmly in hers, she makes a beeline for the cluster of chairs where Neal and Christa are still seated, both of them staring in disbelief.

Christa envelops Leanne in a tight hug, whispering, "I'm so happy for you" in her ear. Leanne just grins and hugs her friend back, and then all they can do is smile at each other for awhile. Leanne feels giddy and flushed, like she's drunk three glasses of wine in the last ten minutes, and she sinks into a chair with a half-giggle, half sigh.

Neal shakes Ed's hand firmly and mutters in his ear, "With all due respect, if you break her heart, I'll break you."

"Entirely understood," notes Ed, meeting his gaze squarely. Neal nods in mingled respect and understanding, and then they too sit down, chatting nonchalantly about anything except what just happened and waiting for the stares to fade away.

Which they do, eventually. When it becomes clear that they won't be taking the dance floor again that night - which they won't, having had quite enough of the attention - the crowd resumes mingling, dancing, and chattering among itself, ignoring the foursome seated in the corner.

Looking back, Leanne won't remember the rest of the night in any detail. She knows Jesse comes to hug her at some point, that Mario makes a smart remark which has Christa kicking him gently in the shin, that Ed's hand is warm and steady on her knee as they lean in to the conversation, but the rest is a blur.

Ed holds her door open for her when she maneuvers herself into the passenger seat of his car, and when he, too, is buckled in to his seat, he turns to her, his eyes bright and hot and beautiful. "Would you be terribly disappointed in me if I asked you to stay the night?"

"I'd be terribly disappointed in you if you didn't," she informs him, and she's flushed and breathless and _happy._

When he smiles back at her, laugh lines fanning from the corners of his eyes and his whole face alight with joy, it's the most beautiful thing she's seen in years.

"Well then," he says huskily, and when he leans in to kiss her, it's a silent promise that sets every nerve alight. "Your place or mine?"

**Author's Note:**

> The song Ed and Leanne waltz to is "Kiss From a Rose" by Seal, in case you were curious. Do you know how _hard_ it is to find a proper power ballad written in 3/4 time?? But that one seemed to fit, particularly the image of "light on the dark side of me". I sort of see them as each other's "rose from the ashes" - something beautiful coming out of tragedy.
> 
> Funny story: this was supposed to be a funny-yet-spicy charity ball fic based on Kiss the Moon's "Shut Up and Dance". It was _supposed_ to end with a rollicking, saucy quickstep and a snog that makes the whole room blush.
> 
> And then it went and grew _feelings_ on me.
> 
> To wit: these _idiots_.


End file.
